“You were saying, Molly?” The edges of his mouth curled and she found herself flushing hotly again.
“Well, how the devil was I supposed to know that you were you? You don’t even resemble your grandmother!”
“But that other man did?” Jonathan’s brows rose, and he chuckled softly. “Wait until I tell my grandmother,” he threatened gleefully, wagging a finger at her.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Molly gasped, horrified. Even in her distress she found the man’s impact stirring. When he looked at her with those laughing eyes, she felt like ice cream on a hot August day: warm and melting.
“What else do you know about me besides the fact that I don’t look like my grandmother?”
Molly stared at him, desperately trying to recall just exactly what Aunt Emily had told her about him. The only thing she could remember was that Jonathan Kent was supposed to be a very nice boy. Boy, indeed!
“Not much, really,” she murmured, nervously taking a sip of her water. It was much easier to think if she didn’t have to look directly into his eyes.
“Molly?” Something in his voice caused her to lift her eyes to his, and she instantly regretted it as her heart flipped.
“That’s better. I like to see your eyes when I talk to you. Did you know your eyes are very expressive?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, and her pulse hammered. “I can tell a lot about a person by their eyes.”
Her breath caught in her lungs, and her confidence dropped another notch. Lord, she hoped the man couldn’t read minds, too. Refusing to give in to the discomfort that was tracking her, Molly forced herself to keep her eyes on his, even if it did make her breathing come faster.
“Shall I fill in the blanks?”
“Blanks?” she echoed dully. Somehow she had lost the thread of the conversation.
“Yes. You know, vital statistics and things?”
Molly nodded and forced herself to pay attention to Jonathan’s words and not to the quickening of her heart.
“I’m an attorney for a large real estate conglomerate in Portland, Oregon. The firm I work for specializes in commercial and industrial properties. I’ve lived in Portland for about twelve years and try to get home at least twice a year to see my grandmother. I’m thirty-five, single, wear a size thirty-eight long suit and size eleven shoe. I prefer striped ties to prints. I’m left-handed and extremely allergic to fur. I wear glasses only for reading and have been inoculated against all major diseases.” Jonathan smiled at her. “Have I left anything out?”
Molly shook her head in amazement, trying to digest the catalog of information. “Just what color pajamas you wear?” she muttered.
“I don’t wear pajamas,” he said softly. “How about you?” He grinned mischievously, and Molly’s cheeks burned. Why on earth hadn’t she asked what color socks he wore!
A waiter approached, and she sighed gratefully. The man’s timing was perfect.
“Any suggestions, Molly?” Jonathan inquired, taking a menu.
“The fish is supposed to be good.” She lowered her eyes to study her own menu but found she couldn’t concentrate on the printed words. Shyly she peeked at Jonathan over the top of her menu. He was completely engrossed, his brows gathered in concentration.
What a wonderful face, she thought, noticing for the first time the way the soft overhead lights played on his striking features. His hair, which had first appeared bright copper, was liberally laced with rich golden highlights. His eyes were a dark aquamarine tinged with flecks of deep blue and were ringed by gloriously long lashes. His face was remarkably smooth, with only a faint shadow of a light beard. His hands, she noted, were large, the fingers well-formed and tapered.
Staring at him, Molly was suddenly curious. This was not the type of man who needed to be fixed up with a blind date. While not handsome in the traditional sense, he was good-looking enough. That, coupled with his charming personality and sparkling sense of humor, made him quite appealing. He probably had his pick of women. What on earth was the man doing on a blind date?
“Have you decided yet? Or would you care to study me a bit longer?”
Molly’s startled gaze flew to his. He had been watching her watch him! She closed her menu and laid it down carefully, pretending to be desperately interested in the delicate pattern of the tablecloth. “No, I’ve decided.”
“And just what have you decided?” he inquired softly as he laid down his own menu. Jonathan’s fingers brushed hers, sending a pulse-pounding shiver up her arm. Vividly aware that he wasn’t talking about her menu choice, she struggled to maintain a casual air.
“I’ve decided on the fish,” she responded with remarkable calm, startling herself.
“Good. I think I’ll have the same.” Jonathan signaled the waiter, gave him their order, then sat back while the man poured some wine.
“Now,” Jonathan said once they were finally alone, “tell me about yourself.”
Molly glanced up at him in surprise. She wasn’t used to discussing her personal life with anyone, no matter how handsome or charming. But on the other hand, he was Alma’s grandson and she certainly couldn’t be rude.
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything. I want to know everything there is to know about Molly Maguire.” Jonathan rested his chin in his hand and studied her intently.
Everything? she wondered weakly. She certainly wasn’t about to give him a laundry list of her life. Nor was she about to start divulging such personal information as her dress or ring size. Maybe he’d settle for her favorite vegetable. Somehow, she had the feeling that was not the kind of information Jonathan Kent was interested in.
“I—I don’t know where to begin,” she stammered, nervously fidgeting with her wineglass.
“Well, for starters, do you do this often?”
Molly stared at him blankly. He was off in another direction again. It was almost as hard to keep up with his train of thought as it was to keep up with Aunt Emily’s.
“Do what?” She frowned.
“Go out with strange men.”
Molly bit back a smile. “No, I think you’re about the strangest.” The moment the words left her mouth, she burst out laughing. Stealing a glance at Jonathan, she was relieved to see him smiling. At least the man could take it as well as he could dish it out. She liked that.
“I guess I deserved that one, didn’t I?” he asked warmly, letting his eyes wander over her face.
Molly nodded. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it. You walked right into that.”
“So I’m about the strangest, huh?” One brow rose menacingly, and he did his best to leer.
“On the contrary.” Molly laughed. “Some of my dates have been pretty strange.”
“So I’ve gathered. Tell me about them.”
Molly was thoughtful for a moment. This seemed to be a safe subject. At least it was better than talking about herself.
“Well, there was Dwight Eckman. I guess he was about the strangest. Not that he wasn’t nice,” she added quickly. “It’s just that poor Dwight was deathly afraid of women. I spent the entire evening talking to myself. All poor Dwight did was grunt or nod. I have to admit, by the end of the evening I was getting pretty good at interpreting his grunts.” Molly smiled at the memory. “Then there was Harold. He chewed tobacco. Spit the vile stuff all over the place. He even challenged me to a spitting contest!” Molly’s nose wrinkled, and Jonathan did his best not to smile.
“Did you accept?”
Molly shook her head. “No, I declined. After him there was Spike.”
Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Spike? Is that a man or a dog?”
Laughing, Molly shook her head. “I’m still not sure. Poor Spike foamed at the mouth and twitched like he had fleas.” Jonathan’s laughter warmed her, and she realized with a start that she had opened up to him. She was talking to Jonathan as if she had known him for years, not just hours. Odd, she usually took a long time to open up to someone.
“Why on earth do you do it? Why do you go out with them? You’re a beautiful, delightful woman. Why do you get roped into these dates?” His voice was so tender that the laughter died on her lips.
Why, indeed? It was an honest question, too bad she couldn’t give him an honest answer. What could she tell him? That Paul Host, her former fiancé had hurt and betrayed her? That she no longer had the ability to trust a man? No, she certainly couldn’t tell Jonathan Kent that.
“Why do you do it, Jonathan?” she inquired softly, hoping to successfully turn the conversation around. “Why do you go out on blind dates?”
“I don’t usually. This is my first night home, and before I even had my bags unpacked, my grandmother was calling the restaurant and making dinner reservations.” He smiled crookedly. “Besides, my curiosity was aroused. I couldn’t wait to get a look at ‘Miss Emily’s poor spinster niece.’” His gentle tone took the sting out of his words, but they still hit home.
Hillchester was a small town, and Molly was well aware of what the townfolk thought of her. She had lived here all her life. At twenty-five, she was still single and lived with her maiden aunt and her pet cat. What else were people to think except that she was just a bit strange? It certainly didn’t help matters that her aunt kept hauling men home, regardless of their age or infirmity. What no one, including her aunt, realized was that she was perfectly happy.
“So you fell for that ‘poor spinster’ routine?” she joked, covering her hurt. “It works every time.”
Jonathan chuckled softly. “Why do you do it, Molly? Why do you go out on these blind dates?”
So much for turning the conversation around, she thought, flashing him what she hoped was an engaging smile. “Actually, I did it for my aunt.”
Jonathan frowned. “Then my date was actually with your aunt?”
“Of course not.” Molly shifted uncomfortably. He had a way of deliberately misinterpreting her words. “Your date was with me. But I came for my aunt. She arranged this date…with you…for me.” Lord, she was beginning to sound like Aunt Emily again.
“Doesn’t your aunt trust you to get your own dates?” Jonathan’s brow rose quizzically, and she swallowed nervously.
This was one subject she had hoped to avoid. Yet Jonathan had skillfully turned the conversation around to just this subject. He certainly was a sly one. She’d have to remember that.
Molly looked up at him, and astonishment widened her eyes. The change in his face was subtle, but Molly realized at once, he knew. The man knew!
“Your aunt thinks you need a man in your life, right?” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Molly’s palms began to sweat, and she shifted in her seat. His touch was making her breathing ragged. “What do you think? Do you need a man in your life, Molly?”
Maybe the man didn’t grunt or spit like some of her other dates, but he sure had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were going down on a roller coaster.
Backed into a corner, Molly shifted her gaze from him. “Men are…nice,” she admitted with some hesitation.
“I’m glad you think so,” he replied, stroking her hand. “But, you still didn’t answer my question. Do you need a man in your life?”
Looking at him, Molly realized that the last thing she needed in her life was this particular man. His presence was nearly overwhelming, and his smile was positively lethal.
“I think—” she gulped, then spotted the waiter “—that it’s time to eat.” The man, bless his heart, hadn’t lost his timing. He set their plates down and dutifully refilled their wineglasses. Molly didn’t even consider drinking more wine. She was already slightly intoxicated, and not from the wine or any other spirits.
“Molly?” Jonathan leaned across the table, tantalizing her dazed senses with his sweet, masculine scent. “Let me assure you that I neither grunt nor spit. And the only thing I’ve been known to chew is my food. You’re perfectly safe with me.” He smiled warmly and Molly began to relax. “However, I do have one slight peccadillo.”
Uh, oh, she thought, backing away from him a bit. Here it comes. She knew this man was just too good to be true.
“What’s that?” She unconsciously gathered her brows together.
“I have a terrible weakness for beautiful, dark-haired ladies who blush at the drop of a hat and have laughing sapphire eyes.” His words stilled everything inside her, and Molly began to wonder just how safe she was with this man. Maybe her other dates hadn’t been perfect, but at least she’d known that they were no threat to her fragile heart or starved emotions.
Jonathan Kent, on the other hand, seemed to be a threat to both. Somehow he had managed to captivate and charm her without really trying. His smile and his words seemed to melt some of the ice around her heart. The invisible wall of protection she’d built for herself seemed to crack in the face of those laughing eyes and that gentle smile.
What was it about the man? she wondered as she picked at her food. He was no different from any other man. No, her mind corrected, he was very different. When he looked at her, her mouth felt as if it were full of peanut butter, and her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. Her thoughts jumped about with wild abandon, and the most incredible words seemed to fall from her mouth.
Watching him, Molly was amazed. The man even ate elegantly. Did he have to be so darn perfect? It was positively annoying. How on earth was she ever going to get through the rest of the evening, knowing the effect he was having on her?
“Molly? Is something wrong?”
“What?” Jonathan’s voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she spoke louder than she intended, causing the couple at the next table to eye her curiously.
“Is everything all right?” Jonathan looked genuinely concerned.
All right? Was the man crazy? Nothing was all right! “Everything is fine,” she lied, taking a bite of fish. “Just fine.” Molly forced herself to concentrate on her meal, willing her hands to work. Fork to fish, fish to mouth, chew, swallow, breathe. Her silent instructions continued until there was nothing left on her plate but a small piece of lemon.
“I like a woman with a hearty appetite,” Jonathan confided, once the plates were cleared. “Would you like some dessert?”
“D-dessert?” Molly stuttered. If she had to force her mouth and teeth to work any more, she’d scream. “No dessert, thank you. I’m stuffed. Coffee will be fine.”
The waiter cleared the table, poured coffee, then paused to take Jonathan’s dessert order.
“Come on, Molly, let’s work off our dinner.”
“What?” Molly looked up at him. He was standing next to her, holding out his hand.
“Are you coming? I’m going to look awfully silly out on the dance floor all by myself.” If the smile he flashed her was meant to be reassuring, it missed its mark. The idea of having Jonathan’s arms around her was more than her jangled nerves could take at the moment.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” she hedged, hoping to put him off.
“Neither am I,” he confessed. “But I’ve waited all night for an excuse to hold you in my arms, and I’m not going to let this opportunity pass.”
Before she could protest, Jonathan grabbed her hand, pulled her from the booth and led her out onto the dance floor. The song was a soft, slow number, and Jonathan held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
As he molded her into the protective warmth of his embrace, Molly’s senses went into overdrive. Through the thin silk of her dress, she could feel the heat of his hands on her skin. Taking deep, slow breaths, Molly wearily tried to fight back the hypnotic spell that he seemed to weave around her. She struggled to calm her skittering senses, but Jonathan’s heady aroma made her dizzy, and she swayed.
“Tired?” Jonathan slid his fingers up to cup the back of her neck, making her skin prickle.
“Yes, a little,” she responded, holding herself stiffly.
“Relax, Molly,” he whispered softly. “I w
on’t bite.”
Biting was not exactly what she was afraid of at the moment. Her usually calm, reasonable mind was failing her, and her emotions were suddenly taking over. Her body was responding to him in a way that made her suddenly conscious of her long-suppressed desires. The heat that emanated from his powerful body seemed to seep into hers. Pore by pore.
Molly’s senses were attuned to his reactions, and she realized with a shock that she was having as powerful an effect on him as he was having on her. She could feel the increased tempo of his heart as it beat beneath his shirt and his breath seemed a bit ragged. Did she imagine it, or did his steps seem to falter?
The song ended, and Molly stopped abruptly in the middle of the dance floor, hurriedly pulling herself free from his embrace.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asked. “If we wait a moment, another song will start.” That was exactly what she was afraid of! If the band had any heart at all, they would play a polka or an Irish jig—anything so long as she wouldn’t have to face going back into the comfort of Jonathan’s arms again.
Her ears detected the soft strains of “Moon River,” and Molly groaned as Jonathan pulled her into his arms again. With a resigned sigh she leaned against him and buried her face into the soft pad of his shoulder. What could it hurt? It was only a simple dance, for heaven’s sake, not a lifelong commitment. Maybe she was just overreacting, she reasoned, as her feet began to move in time with the music.
Deciding it was best to ignore the fact that her body molded perfectly to the contours of his, despite the differences in their height, Molly began to relax.
When Jonathan’s hands massaged the small of her back, Molly found to her surprise that she was actually enjoying his touch. She was a grown woman of twenty- five. She certainly couldn’t continue to act like a scared jackrabbit simply because this man sent her nerves jumping in a hundred different directions.
Molly closed her eyes as the song played on. Jonathan’s shoulder, strong and firm, felt good against her cheek. The soft wool of his suit coat gently stroked her skin, tickling her. When he slipped both his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, she offered no protest, and she slid her arms around his neck, even though she had to stand on her tiptoes to do it. They slowly swayed to the music, their bodies in tune to the tempo.
Heavenly Match Page 2
